Angry people are not always wise
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
Anna snatched up the bunny, turning it over in her hand. Was this ‘arrow’ what Aunt Meg had meant her to follow? How could this help? Then she noticed the seam at the back of the old toy had been unpicked and badly sewn up again. Hurrying downstairs, Anna grabbed a small pair of scissors and snipped the threads.
Thankful it was the weekend and her usual callers were unlikely to materialise, Anna sank into a chair at the table by the window and slowly pulled apart the sides of the rabbit with a whispered ‘sorry’. Some of the stuffing had been removed, and in its place was a piece of chintz-patterned cotton, wrapped around a hard object.
Anna weighed it on her palm for a second, then carefully unwound the fabric to reveal a small, old-fashioned but delicately ornate key.
Getting slowly to her feet, she walked closer to the window to examine it. Anna couldn’t recall ever having seen it before. If only Oliver were here… she glanced at the clock. He would be travelling for hours yet, but—
The doorbell rang, and Anna flew down the hall, knowing it was foolish to hope, but as the door swung open to reveal Oliver, she threw herself at him, her only coherent thought as his arms closed around her was that everything would be okay. She could cope with whatever this key meant, whatever the new will revealed when she found it, so long as Oliver was with her.
Appalled as the insight struck her, Anna became aware of being wrapped in a strong embrace. She closed her eyes as emotion filled her. This wasn’t a stupid, juvenile crush. She had fallen in love with Oliver. Relishing the feel of his firm chest beneath her head, the steady, calm thumping of his heart, she was filled with the implications of her realisation. It felt so right to be in his arms, feel the strength of his embrace, lean her head against those broad shoulders and inhale the familiar aftershave. How could she face him, look him in the eye, when she had only just discovered how much he meant to her?
She drew in a short breath. Oliver was her boss! What was she thinking?!
‘I’m so sorry,’ Anna mumbled, heat filling her cheeks. He eased his hold on her, which had probably been instinct when she’d launched herself at him. Mortified, she dropped her arms and righted herself, trying to ignore the frisson shooting through her as their fingers brushed against each other.
‘So sorry.’
Oliver’s expression was hard to read, but then he smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. ‘I appreciate the welcome.’
‘Come in.’ She stepped back, and he walked past her down the hall. Anna willed her heart to behave itself and followed him. ‘You’re early. I mean, I didn’t think you’d be back in Cornwall until this evening?’
Oliver turned to face her, a strange awareness about him. ‘Took a train as far as Chester yesterday. Stayed with friends overnight. Felt like stretching my legs once the taxi dropped me off at Harbourwatch.’ In better light, she could detect his weariness. Lines etched his face and there was an odd look in his eyes…
‘Let me get you some coffee.’ Anna busied herself, desperate to think about mundane things and not this massive thing and how to deal with it. She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Have you eaten at all?’
There was no response, so she turned fully around. Oliver stood by the table, staring at the disembowelled bunny, and she walked over to join him.
‘I found it just now. Aunt Meg told me to follow the shells, only I didn’t know what she meant, but there it was all the time. I don’t know where the key fits.’
‘I think I do.’ Oliver turned to face her. There was a consciousness about his expression again, and although her heart pounded over his simply being there, Anna’s trepidation increased. ‘Is Meg’s old tea caddy still in the study?’
‘The polished wooden box? Yes, but it doesn’t open anymore. Oh!’
He pointed at the key. ‘If I’m not mistaken, this will do the job.’
‘Shall we…’
‘I’ll go.’ Oliver left the room, and Anna turned the ailing toy over to look at its forlorn face.
‘What were you hiding, Aunt Meg? Why go to such lengths? Is this because you made another will?’ It didn’t make any sense. If the second will had come to light earlier, Anna would never have come here, never have known of her bequest… and she’d never have met Oliver.
Not wanting to think about it, Anna hurried over to the now boiled kettle and made herself a mug of tea, pouring coffee for Oliver just as he pushed open the kitchen door. The tea caddy in his hands, he walked over and placed it on the table.
‘What makes you think this is it?’
‘I have one with a similar key. Quite unusual for them to be so decorative.’
‘Oh, right. I’m scared to open it.’ Anna eyed the box warily, then raised an anxious face to Oliver. His usual inscrutable expression had returned.
‘Only way to know its contents.’
Anna rolled her eyes at him, and the edges of his lips twitched.
‘Do you want me to do it?’
Anna handed him the key, praying silently the box wouldn’t just be full of more shells.
The lock proved somewhat troublesome, but Oliver soon had it open and lifted the lid. Anna immediately saw the long white document resting on top of the contents, and she tried to clear her taut throat.
‘It’s there. The will.’
‘So it would seem.’ Oliver offered it to Anna, and she took it, aware her hand shook.
Everything was about to change. Westerleigh Cottage, the home she’d longed for, the home she’d made for herself, was going to be torn from her grasp. Her life in Polkerran Point – her beloved Cornish cove – would end. There was nothing for her here, with Alex a long-expunged dream, and Oliver – her boss, the man she’d not been aware she was falling for – leaving as soon as the summer was over.
‘I can’t do it.’ Anna’s breath hitched in her throat. She wanted nothing more than to bury her head in Oliver’s shoulder, have him hold her, kiss away her worries. She held the will out to him. ‘Please, can you?’
She chewed on her bottom lip, her insides churning, as Oliver unfolded the will and cast his eyes over the opening paragraphs. Then, he paled.
‘What is it?’
Oliver’s hand fell to his side, and Anna took the will from his lifeless grasp.
‘There’s something I need to explain…’ He strode over to the window, and Anna looked at the document in her hand. Her heart leapt into her throat.
‘It’s you! You’re the one who’s going to take everything away. You are the beneficiary of the cottage!’
He swung around. ‘It’s not my choice, Anna!’
Anna’s mind careered from one thought to another, but uppermost was the pain in her chest at what felt like the utmost betrayal from the man she loved with all her heart.
Oliver took a step towards her. ‘You have to let me explain.’
‘No, I don’t have to do anything. Besides, what is there to say? You struck up a so-called friendship with Aunt Meg, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, I did, though there’s—’
‘Well, it’s a bit odd, isn’t it? Why would you do that with an elderly lady who lived alone? Was it you, hounding her?’ Anna gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. ‘You were the one going to the hospice. You didn’t even leave her in peace in there!’
‘Yes, I went there, but—’
‘How could you?’ Oliver’s face darkened, but Anna was too wounded to think straight. ‘And you’re turning into some… some asset-obsessed plutocrat. Aren’t you buying up property in Polkerran?’ Anna’s mouth tasted as bitter as the words sounded.
‘Yes, but—’
‘No wonder you didn’t need to stay at Harbourwatch, or buy a house here. You were after this one all along. Well, you’ve got what you wanted.’
To her surprise, Oliver flinched. ‘Actually, no, I haven’t, but—’
‘Veto! That’s three buts in a row.’ Anna glared at him, the pain in her chest intensifying as his eyes held hers, the inscrutable mask descending over his features. How could she still be so attracted to him when he’d deceived her like this? She’d thought Giles, and then Alex, were the biggest arses she was likely to get involved with. It never occurred to her Oliver would be the worst of the lot.
‘Look, I do need to tell you—’
‘You – you looked through her handbag! On one of your visits to the hospice. That’s how you knew the hallmark on that bottle.’ Oliver bowed his head, but Anna’s heart clenched in her chest as further understanding flooded through her mind in a relentless torrent. ‘You needed to find the original will because you had no copy of your own. When you came over that day, when the boys were here…’ Her skin grew cold, and her breath hitched in her throat. ‘It was an excuse, wasn’t it? You were looking for something, not helping me.’
A look of culpability filled Oliver’s face, and Anna’s distress hit its peak. ‘Go. Leave me alone.’
‘Anna, listen, I can explain why—’
‘Please, just go.’ She spoke firmly now.
Oliver glared at her a second longer, but Anna felt too wounded to take back her accusatory words and held her own tongue.
‘Fine.’ He grabbed the will, turned on his heel and strode out of the room, and unable to help herself, Anna ran down the hall, but he’d already slammed the door behind him.
She tugged the door open. It had begun to rain heavily, but Oliver didn’t seem to notice as he reached the gate.
Anna drew in a shuddering breath. ‘Wait!’
He stopped but didn’t turn around, and she held her breath, choking on a sob when he opened the gate without a backward glance and stormed off down the lane.
Closing the door, Anna slumped against it. What had she done? How could she have accused him of such things? Because I think it’s true; I feel betrayed by him.
‘I do,’ she said firmly, pushing herself away from the door. What was she to do now? How long would he let her stay?
Anna released a huff of breath. After the way in which she’d spoken to him, Oliver would probably evict her straight away. She looked around the homely kitchen, at her baking tins gleaming on the draining board, the neatly arranged plates on the dresser, Heathcliff curled up on his window seat and that view… the view that cheered her heart every day. How little had she understood that the sight of Harbourwatch had become as much of an attraction as the sea and the sky?
Swallowing back a sob so severe it made her throat ache, Anna strode over to the fridge, grabbed an open bottle of wine and a glass and walked over to sit beside Heathcliff, who raised his head to peer at her, let out a faint mew and then curled up in a ball again.
‘Don’t judge me! It’s alright for you.’ She sniffed as she poured wine into her glass. ‘So long as I keep you fed and warm, you’ll be perfectly content. You don’t care about the view, Polkerran or…’ Her voice broke, and she quickly took a slug of wine. ‘Or him!’
The afternoon had progressed by the time Anna’s eyes stopped welling up. She checked her new guests in with a bright smile and her usual efficiency, then she retreated to the window seat again. Heathcliff, sensing distress, climbed into her lap, and she leaned against the window, her back turned on the rain-soaked view, watching the room grow darker but unwilling to move to put on the lights.
‘Oh, Heathcliff. What am I to do?’ Anna felt weary, spent. The thought of having to pack up and leave was unbearable. At least she didn’t have any furniture to move, though. The contents of the house would belong to Oliver now. Even the new things she’d bought were technically his, for she’d used a chunk of the inheritance to pay for them.
She knew, however, this wasn’t the real source of her distress. It was Oliver. Her having placed her trust in him, believing in him, falling in love with him and who he seemed to be. She felt torn in shreds, destroyed by this revelation her trust had been misplaced. Did the village know he was this scheming and ruthless?
And poor Aunt Meg! To be deceived by someone whom she thought came round to look after her garden, to help maintain her beloved cottage. But then, she’d left him the house…
Round and round went her thoughts, but always they came back to Oliver, and as her disbelief faded, Anna’s mind began to clear. She shot up, dislodging a disgruntled Heathcliff in the process.
Her accusations notwithstanding, she had ample proof of his kindness, didn’t she? She’d seen how he behaved towards Mrs Clegg; he’d given her and her pets a home, rent-free, and he’d also given paid work to several others…
Oliver had been kind to Anna, too, when she was so distraught over Mrs Lovelace’s revelation. Was he that good an actor he could put on a front to try and find the will? And had he even been that bothered about it coming to light? Although he’d tried to support her, help her as best he could, when she thought back to what he’d said it didn’t tally. At no point had he seemed like someone desperate to find it. In fact, he’d encouraged her to let it go. And Oliver’s shock on reading its contents had appeared to be incredibly genuine…
Anna’s stomach swirled as she walked back to replace the wine in the fridge. What if she was wrong? He hadn’t denied her accusations, but what if Oliver wasn’t as guilty as she thought? Her skin grew cold, and she shivered.
What had she done? Oliver meant more to her than a property! Only he didn’t know that. She’d never told him.
Anna’s eyes ached with sadness, her throat so tight she could barely breathe, but she had no tears left, and with sudden clarity, she understood what she had to do. She must let him explain. She’d been stupid, a fool. Snatching up her phone, she selected Oliver’s number.
Damn. Switched off, as usual.
She sent him a text anyway, asking him to call, in hopes he’d switch the phone back on soon. Would he even reply after all she’d said?
Anna flicked the switch on the lamps methodically, becoming aware of Heathcliff’s mewing.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said softly as she hurried over to the door to the boot room and filled his bowl with food. She opened the back door, but it still rained heavily, the wind blowing in off the sea.
Walking over to the window, Anna peered over at Harbourwatch.
Then, she flew down the hall, grabbed her Barbour, stuffed her feet into her wellies and shot out the door.